frameworking
by witchfingers
Summary: AU. In which Tomoe is a graphic designer with a cool job, and a quirky roommate, and a bothersome crush on a probably underage girl, whom he may or may not see ever again. [Nanami x Tomoe, and other stuff that does not involve triangles- but includes Mizuki x Unari]
1. ichi

_AU. 'In the 3-am calm of the still fall night, Tomoe felt like he was the only inhabitant of the world.' Then things happen. Second in the 'Of Honor and Lost Causes' verse. {Nanami x Tomoe, and other stuff that does not involve triangles}._

* * *

**frameworking**

The soft breeze blew the dry leaves away from his path, as he swiftly walked back home. The night had grown cold as it became darker, and the clothes that had clung to his body with sweat not two hours before were hidden under layers of warm clothes.

It was late, really late, and Tomoe was way deviated from his standard pattern of behavior. He liked things in his life predictable and under his control, and seldom could he be found wandering the streets at night without a solid reason. Tonight, it had been Kurama's concert, who'd been devastatingly excited about the unusual venue he had secured. He had showered his friends with merchandising and free tickets.

In the 3-am calm of the still fall night, Tomoe felt like he was the only inhabitant of the world. The yellow street lamps were like dead torches, showing the way into a chasm of shadows. The cold kept the night creatures silent, and even the soft crackling of the leaves as he stepped on them seemed dulled, distant.

He was very content being alone like this, basking in the little cloud of mist that appeared as he breathed.

That was why, at first, when he passed by the figure lying by the bus stop he paid no greater attention to it. Until, a couple of steps afterwards, he realized that a sliver of logic was missing from that scene. Despite himself, he retraced his steps back to the deserted bus stop.

His first thought was that she was dead. The girl lay scattered on the sidewalk, her purse and coat on the ground next to her, as if she'd slumped down and her things had fallen out of her grip. But she breathed, and her skin was crawling with subtle goosebumps, and the hem of her short skirt was riding slightly higher than what was proper in Tomoe's eyes.

He knelt by her side. He observed her, and poked her with his long-nailed finger. He tried shaking her awake. But still there she lay, as if the sidewalk was the most comfortable place where she could ever sleep, and Tomoe was at a loss as to what to do next. His honor didn't let him walk away on her, and his nonchalance told him to let it go and go back home.

He tried shaking her awake once more, for the last time, he told himself. To his surprise, it seemed to have an effect. The girl opened her eyes, looked around utterly disoriented, and tried standing up. All the while seeming to fail to notice the tall man crouching next to her, who stood up after she was on her wobbly feet.

'Well, my job here's done,' he said under his breath, and tried to start going his way. But the girl said something grandly unintelligible, and proceeded to sway dangerously, trying to grab hold of the frame of the bus stop to steady herself. But the bus stop was not within her reach, as he duly observed, and the girl continued to move unsteadily, apparently trying not to fall from an imaginary tight rope, or something. Pissed at himself, Tomoe looked at the girl, trying to make up his mind. Evidently, she was completely drunk. She'd probably been at some house party and then meant to –somehow- return somewhere, and ended up shamefully intoxicated in some nondescript suburban neighborhood.

It placed some kind of unwelcome and tyrannical moral obligation on him. He just couldn't let her lie there like that, his inner voice said. And when he tried asking for her name, address, whatever, she just slouched dramatically, and would have sunken again into the ground if he hadn't caught her.

So what was he to do?

Blaming all the gods, the known ones and the unknown ones, he lifted her into his arms and picked up her things. She was very cold to the touch, and shivered as he covered her with her coat. While he slowly walked back home, he thought of looking through her purse for an ID. Then he could put her in a cab and appease his conscience.

But though he sat down on a random chipped-green-paint bench by the sidewalk, girl still positioned in his arms, and meticulously went through her purse and her every pocket, she had no identification on her, and there was nothing he could do. He blamed her typical reckless teenage behavior. Because, come on, how old could that girl be? 17, tops. And drunk.

When he was that age, he reasoned with himself, girls did not get passed out drunk. It was not cool. You just didn't do it. Well, he'd done it. But he wasn't a girl, he conceded, as he started walking again, and he didn't drink himself under the table if he was alone in unknown places. Self restraint was always a priority for him. One had to know his own limits. He'd learnt his very well in Mizuki's sake-filled house parties. But, whatever.

Thoughts about what was proper and what wasn't kept him entertained all the way back home, and he hardly felt the nameless girl's weight in his arms.

.

When he opened the door, the apartment was really dark, with the exception of some streaks of yellowish light that filtered from the street lamps. It looked slightly hallowed, as if wisps of magic were left in the corners where the dark was thickest, under the sofas and inside the cupboards. He'd smiled privately if it were not for his present predicament. In the end, deciding it was the chivalrous thing to do, he deposited the stranger on his own bed. With a sigh, he wiped the slight trace of drool from her chin, took her shoes off and tucked her in.

He buried his face in his hand, massaging the bridge of his nose. He was sleepy and slightly annoyed.

_What am I doing_, he asked himself.

Nothing ever gave him an answer, of course.

He peeped into his roommate's room. It was empty, of course. He'd lost sight of him during the concert, somewhen, and, judging by the little snake's reputation, he was probably in some random party getting the people around him drunk (and he himself in the process too, perhaps) for his own sport. Probably having tons of fun, very much unlike himself.

Resigned as to his sleeping place for the night, he grabbed a pillow and a warm blanket and dressed the sofa up to look as comfortable as it could. It was… passable. But even if he was extenuated from a long day's work and some wicked partying afterwards, he looked at his makeshift bed and couldn't bring himself to feel like sleeping.

He could hear the girl's soft breathing like a rhythmic interruption of the silence, drifting in the night breeze all the way to his ears, to torment him. He had a very acute sense of hearing, and he couldn't help being slightly haunted by the thought of something being alive other than him, and Mizuki's score of precious bonsais, the pet snake, and the giant catfish in the bathtub.

He gracefully made his way to the kitchen, where, thoughts racing, he put a kettle to boil. Tea would do him good. The kitchen window overlooked the street, three stories down. Nothing moved, but the leaves that the wind tossed aimlessly around, forming dancing little whirlwinds. It was really nice to be awake at night, to be a part of the sleeping world and the shifting shadows. It was a great pity that human life was meant to be centered around daylight.

… _And what will you tell her when she wakes up? She'll probably scream for the police. And what will you do, then, silly fox?_ a voice in his mind, that sounded dangerously like his friend Kurama's, chastised.

He hated it, but whomever the voice really belonged to had a point.

Well, he shrugged, he guessed that was a problem he needn't take care of immediately. He made himself some soothing green tea, and went to sleep.

.

.

He welcomed the Saturday with a blessing.

It was very pleasant to wake up like that, with soft, mild autumn sunlight trickling onto his face. When he blinked his eyes open, he saw the last tall branches of the trees of the street through the window. Their leaves made for fascinating sun-catchers, letting the happy rays glisten through and around them.

The door to Mizuki's room was closed, so he guessed that his roommate had come back at some ungodly hour in the morning and didn't want to know a thing about the outside world _at least_ until noon.

Idly, Tomoe brewed himself some coffee; and as he drank it coolly in the kitchen, he wandered what to do about his sudden guest. Nothing came to mind, he was blank.

The clock on the kitchen wall read 10.20 am. It was a nice time to be waking up after a night out, slightly early, even, but it was ok for him.

He crossed the apartment, and, opening the door, he went into his room. The light was dim and cozy, and the girl lay tangled in a mess of sheets, snoring slightly. He frowned. She was showing all kinds of too much skin; and, yet, rather than seductive she made for a really adorable sight, at least to him.

That annoyed him.

_She_ annoyed him; and, strangely, too easily.

It was just creepy that he would be watching her like that, thinking things like those. It would not do.

But just as he was turning around to go for his second cup of coffee, the girl lazily stirred awake.

'Oh,' she muttered, still half-asleep, 'Ha ha, I had the weirdest dream. First, I was at Mamoru's wacky sophisticated party, then someone called the police, who arrived and started chasing that creepy Yatori person saying he was a drug dealer, then Mamoru's parents woke up and kicked us all out of the basement, and then I was a bit tipsy and couldn't find the bus stop and then I fell asleep, then some creep woke me up and tried to coax personal stuff out of me, ha ha, and it was so weird, haha, thank goodness it was only a dream.'

Her laugh froze in her throat, however, when she detected the very guilty-looking Tomoe, who had been caught mid-act of sneaking silently out of the room, and whose mind was reeling trying to tell if when she'd said _some creep woke me up_, she'd meant _him_.

Luckily for him, though, she didn't scream. She blinked at him, taking him in, and then looked at her surroundings. _Oh, no_, she thought.

She fell back onto the bed.

'That wasn't a dream… was it?'

'Like I would know,' he replied, carefully.

'My head hurts like… it really, really hurts. Where am I?' she asked.

'My place,' he answered, nonchalantly.

'… you didn't kidnap me, did you? Please, say you didn't kidnap me… or worse. We didn't… hook up… did we…?' she kind of panicked.

He sighed under his breath, annoyed, and chose to pointedly ignore her last question. 'Of course I didn't kidnap you. You were passed out drunk on the street, and what could I do. You had no ID. I brought you over. Now, say you're thankful and begone.'

She sleepily looked around the place. It was a very nice room, decorated in a very traditional and minimalistic fashion. The dim orange light that the curtains let through gave the place an imperial air. Like something out of an adventure movie or the diary of some famous explorer of the old times.

She sat up again, blushing in embarrassment when she saw he was still there, arms folded and leaning against the doorframe. For a moment, she was at a loss for what to do. On one hand, her head was killing her. On the other, she didn't want to overstay her welcome, and wanted to leave ASAP and never show her face in that neighborhood again, wherever it was she was.

Sitting as she was, she bowed at him. 'I'm really thankful for your kindness. I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble. Gosh, I'm so embarrassed. Sorry. And thank you…'

He looked at her. 'Hmmm,' he said. His eyes caught the morning light in a strange, slightly spectral way, and a shiver ran down her spine. And then, he was gone.

She sighed. Although his slightly snappy attitude made her want to yell at him, she was really kept in check by the magnitude of the favor he'd done to her that night. If she had been left there on the street to her own devices, who knew what could've happened to her. She forced her fiery temper to be humbled.

Also, the headache didn't make her feel like anything but dying or something. So she slowly got up and picked her things, and as she got out of the room, feeling as awful as if she were getting out of a gutter, across the living room she saw the guy, in the kitchen, gesturing for her to go over there.

Without saying anything, he forced a glass of water into her hands, and a tablet of painkillers. On the counter, next to her, sat a cup of coffee and some cookies, also evidently meant for her. She looked tentatively from her hands to his impassive face a couple of times, feeling rather confused. Not wanting to so readily accept her luck.

'Is it really for….?'

'Yes,' he said, curtly, 'Drink it up'.

'I'll be forever indebted to you for this, you know…'

'Needless,' he sighed. 'It's just common manners.'

_Common manners?_ he asked himself, and watched her out of the corner of his eye as she sat on a stool and sipped the coffee with a dreamy look. _Common manners my ass. I should have chucked her out to the street as soon as she woke up. What the hell am I doing?_

He browsed though a recipe book, to try and keep himself distracted. Tried to focus on the most difficult recipe he could find, some sort of peach baklava. But she looked like she was savoring every centimeter of those cookies, and he became increasingly frustrated.

_It's your fault. You fed her. Now deal with it_, his inner voice grunted. He seemed to be his own worst enemy.

'You cook?' she asked, conversationally, finishing the last of her coffee.

'Yes. It's relaxing.'

'What are you planning to make?'

'Who knows. Now, if you're done, I'll show you how to get to the main road.'

She nodded, and beamed at him. Picking up her things, she followed him out of the apartment, down the stairs, and to the street, that looked really lively through the cheerful palette of mid-autumn colors.

'Thank you!' she said, as a goodbye, 'I'm really grateful. I'll think of a way to pay back all your kindness!'

He shook his head, dismissing the idea.

'It's fine,' he assured, 'forget about it.' She had a nice smile. He wondered if, secretly, he wanted her to mean that, if only to keep her around a while longer. She was too young for him, and childish and reckless, apparently, but she seemed to lighten his spirits. It was strange. He'd never felt like that before.

So quickly that he didn't notice, she eyed the address written on the apartment front. Right. She'd have to write it down, she wouldn't want to forget it.

He stood there and she waved at him and left, but he watched her until she turned around the corner and he lost sight of her.

.

.

It was only on Saturday of the following week that she managed to gather the courage to go across town to see her 'tall, dark and sexy' rescuer, as she had dubbed him when she realized she'd not asked his name. She'd decided that, seeing that he liked to cook, she'd cook something for him to thank him for saving her from the results of her Friday-night madness.

In all honesty, all she could make and be proud of was sasamochi, so she made him a full tray, which she arranged as artistically as she could. It looked rather decent.

She found the front door open, and went directly to knock at the door of the apartment she remembered, on the third floor.

Rather unexpectedly, it was another guy who opened the door. His hair was messy, he'd probably just woken up, and he was only in his underwear, and socks.

'Morning,' he said, 'How can I help you…?'

Slightly embarrassed, but determined, she answered 'Well… I'm looking for… eh… a tall guy… stylish hair… doesn't speak much?'

The guy nodded, 'Well, that would be Tomoe, ' he mused, '… do I know you?'

'Ha ha… probably not…' she said, uncomfortably, 'See… he kind of rescued me from a very weird situation last Friday and I'd brought this to say thanks…' and she gestured to the neatly packed tray in her hands.

'Rescued you, you say…?' the guy perked up, sniffing something good to torment his friend with, 'He went on an errand, but should be back soon. Wanna come in and wait for him?'

'I don't know,' she answered, 'I don't want to trouble you…' And she tried to look anywhere but the barely dressed person.

'Psh, never mind! Come in, I'll get dressed and make us something to drink. And then you can tell me all about Tomoe being gentlemanly, ha ha. I'm Mizuki, by the way, you are…?'

.

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**A/N:** Hahaha this is so childish xD But it was fun to write! And I hope you enjoyed it :) Dedicated to the lovely **_rekt_ **who was really nice and encouraging!

This is the second 'partt' of the "**Of Honor and Lost Causes" AUverse** where Tomoe and Mizuki are roommates, 20sth, and pretty much normal humans. Kurama remains a glamorous rocker and never ever, no AUverse will ever change that xD

I'm thinking that I'm gonna let Mizuki have his fun and write another chapter to this story. So, comments are welcome! Very welcome!

See you next time!


	2. ni

_'Psh, never mind! Come in, I'll get dressed and make us something to drink. And then you can tell me all about Tomoe being gentlemanly, ha ha. I'm Mizuki, by the way, you are…?'_

.

.

Mizuki's amusement was short lived, though.

Nanami's phone rang, and before the cute ringtone could fill the air of the apartment, she'd picked up, replying only with 'mhhhmmm's and 'aha's and such to whatever the voice on the other side was saying.

'I'm really sorry I cannot stay, Mizuki,' she said, 'I feel kind of bad, though… I'd have liked to thank him again… Tomoe you say he's called?'

Mizuki nodded with half a pout.

'Anyway, I've got to go, they need me at the store. Could you do me a favor?' she asked, handing the carefully wrapped sweets over to the man, who was now wearing a light-colored shirt, 'Could you give this to Tomoe? Tell him I'm really really thankful. Oh, and tell him to share some with you, to make up for the tea we didn't take… And, oh,' she added last, only then coming up with the idea, 'there, give him that. That's where I work,' she explained, gesturing to the little card she'd placed on the sweets.

'Right, so I must be off. Sorry for being so hasty! See you, Mizuki!'

And, just like that, she was gone.

Mizuki blinked slowly. He wasn't entirely sure he'd understood what had just happened, but, shrugging, he turned to the sasamochi with appreciation.

When he left the card and the package on Tomoe's bed, one or two sweets were gone for good, and Mizuki had pasted a post-it over the empty spaced they'd occupied.

'Customs tax', it read.

.

.

.

'Yukiji', Tomoe read aloud, from the card that was left on the package, 'Is that what she said her name was?'

Mizuki shrugged, too busy with his bowl of ramen to give his reluctantly perplexed roommate a proper answer.

'Hmmm', Tomoe murmured, taking it as a confirmation. 'She makes fairly tolerable sweets, I guess.'

'Just so you know,' Mizuki said, offended, 'They tasted more than "fairly tolerable" to me, and it was mean of you to have eaten all of them. You'll get headaches, you'll see.'

His roommate chuckled a little derisive chuckle. 'I might have shared better if you'd not sunk your fangs into them just like that.'

The green-eyed man pouted slightly. 'Why do you always conveniently forget that we never have any milk because you outdrink my grocery-buying capacity? Huh? And do I complain?'

_You do_, Tomoe mouthed, wordlessly.

'It was rethorical,' Mizuki sheeshed, 'And, anyway. About those sweets. So, what kind of favor did you do the lady?' He winked after the question, repeatedly.

Irritated, Tomoe glared at his roommate and fell silent, unwilling to give _him_, of all people, any shadow of a reason to tease him.

Mizuki's skills to irk Tomoe were, however, honed to acuteness after many years of perfecting his technique.

'You know that you have the right to remain silent, and I have the right to interpret that silence however I want, right?' he purred. As he toyed with his chopsticks, the muscles in his arm made the tattoo of a snake that curled around it seem to come alive.

Much to his roommate's satisfaction, Tomoe's aura exuded venom. Still, he impassibly waited for the storm to pass. It took a while, though.

'… and knowing you like I do, not only you must've told her to forget it all and get out of your life, but now you're faced with the moral dilemma of sticking to your precious sense of the traditional and give her a gift back.'

If Tomoe had been the fox his friends made him to be, his ears would have twitched in shame at having been discovered. He wasn't a fox, though, so he just sent Mizuki the most glacial glare he knew how to glare.

Mizuki tried to brush off the sudden chill with a sheepish smile and some sound reasoning: 'You look at me like that because I'm right, aren't I?'

Truth be told, Tomoe had not yet thought _that_ far ahead, he'd just gone and eaten the sweets together with a cup of good, strong, reliable coffee. But the two of them had known each other since high school, and sometimes Tomoe could swear that his snake-ish friend knew him better than he did himself. And he did have a point. He was a guy that liked his traditions to be respected with some degree of seriousness, and the blessing (and, he grudgingly added, the burden) of a gift could only be thanked with another gift. That was why he never asked anything in return. Because then he had to go through… stuff.

Like reciprocating a gesture to that damn drunkard Yukiji person. As if he had time to care about that.

While all these thoughts rushed through his mind, Mizuki was taking his empty bowl back to the kitchen, putting the kettle to boil, and then patting his back almost amicably. He distantly thought he could hear him asking what he thought would be good to get her.

'Drop it, damn it!' Tomoe roared suddenly, making Mizuki shed a dignified cringe, 'I don't know this girl and I don't _care_ the slightest bit about her! Now, go make sake or feed the catfish or whatever it is you do when you're not being annoying, and leave me alone.'

'Jeez, man,' Mizuki said, 'You're gonna end up lonely and bitter when you're old, live a little…!'

.

.

On Tuesday, his free day, Tomoe found himself on the way to the address written on the card that the girl had left. He knew it was a shop, and a rather peculiar one, too. He'd not done the investigating, though, that much could aid his conscience. Rather, the 'investigating' had been shoved at his face by none other than Mizuki, while he had guitlessly been trying to read a mystery novel.

'Look, Tomoe!' his shameless roommate had said, pushing the laptop's screen right into his nose, 'I googled you some background information for your quest! No need to thank me…' (and he'd winked. The little snake had that nasty habit embedded into his pattern of behavior.)

'Why_ever_ would I want to thank you?' said Tomoe, dignified, discreetly eyeing the website on display.

… yet, there he was, suddenly standing before a small boutique called 'Sengoku Jidai'. Upon entering, Tomoe was taken by surprise by the actual size of the premises- the place had seemed very small from the outside. The layout of the store was a traditional one – a display area and a counter opposite the door, at the other end of the room; and high, narrow windows to let the air and light in, but not the sun. Huge tapestries were on display on the light-yellow walls, intermingled with ornate wood panels and beautifully embroidered fabrics. There were relatively few pieces of furniture (antiques, as Tomoe's trained eyes could tell) strategically placed to go with the different sections that the wall dressings created, highlighting the convenience and visual pleasure that came with having dressed walls.

Well, that was what the shop was about, actually. Traditional wall dressings. Or so the website had said, when Mizuki had gotten Tomoe to actually look at it.

Being there, however, made Tomoe feel slightly torn, and it had nothing and everything to do with wood panels and Edo-period tapestry.

He spent a long time looking carefully at each piece on display, appreciating the minuscule details and elaborate crafting of each of them. Getting lost in the beautiful little mazes of embroidered flowers and trees and houses, and each second that passed brought him farther from the store and closer to his childhood of mountain wooden houses and narrow forest paths, closer to his adoptive mother and the lonely melody of a flute that drifted from the roofed gallery to the night.

The mellow light eased him. He felt at peace, such a seldom peace. Maybe this city was too much, was becoming too much for him. Maybe he could take a break. Go back to the mountains, visit the old house…

'Wel-come!' a voice chirped from the counter, snapping him out of his reverie.

Soft footsteps approached him, and, when he turned, he was facing the large, strangely familiar eyes of that girl who made "okay" sweets.

'What are you doing here?!' she asked, delighted and slightly caught off-guard, 'I thought, when I saw you from the counter, it couldn't be you all the way here, but hey, it's nice that you dropped by!' She beamed at him, making him uneasy and slightly suspicious. That was his nature, and it was not as if he could help it.

She didn't make anything of his silence and aloofness, only asked him if he would like a cup of tea.

'Thank you, but don't bother', he replied, and easily lied about having to come to the neighborhood and having to leave soon.

'The tapestries you sell are really beautiful,' he found himself saying, though, betraying his intentions.

'They are, aren't they?' she said with her signature beam, and proceeded to tell him about the little traditional studio that made them, in a small village in the outskirts.

'They still use the same technique they used four hundred years ago! Can you believe it? It's amazing, I once visited, and they're incredibly nice. And the threads they use…' and she was telling him about silk worms and the long way to China, and he was doing his damnedest best to pay attention to her and not become distracted with that smile that seemed to always hang from her lips, and…

'It must be nice,' he absentmindedly commented.

'Huh?'

'China, and the orchards where they keep the silk worms…'

She beamed, was that all she ever did? He was between unnerved and mesmerized. Whatever. He mentally shook himself to order.

'Anyway, I was only here to return your gift, it was kind of you to leave those sweets with Mizuki, but completely unnecessary. You shouldn't have- you didn't owe me anything'. With those words, a small, square package found his way to her hands.

She reverentially looked at him, reverentially thanked him, blushed all the while, and was at a loss for words.

'A… actually, it was you who shouldn't… I mean… come all the way here…' she said, flustered.

'Nevermind,' he said, stoically, waving it off, 'It's how it's always been done, and I like to keep such gestures meaningful.'

Smiling broadly, she walked over to the counter and put the gift away with great care. She asked again if he wouldn't like a cup of tea.

'No, thank you, I must be on my way,' he said, businesslike and detached. However, he hesitated before leaving.

'I really enjoyed this place. It brings back pleasant memories,' he unexpectedly said, but kindly, and she saw in his eyes a warmth that she supposed was very rarely there to be seen. And she had an idea.

'Well, you know, we usually hand these out to old customers, but I guess no one will tell me off for giving you one!' she asserted, and stretched over the counter to fish for something in one of the drawers. 'Ah, there!' she exclaimed, happily, and walked over to him with a discount coupon.

'It's a 25% discount! It's a rather good deal, especially if you want to buy many things… well… I don't know if you want to buy many things… eh… hehehe… well… even if it's for something small…. well, yeah, you know what I mean…' she said, sheepishly.

A small, honest smile flickered over Tomoe's lips.

'Thank you,' he said, genuinely, 'My associate might actually want to consider this offer. I'm off now, fare well.'

He waved once over his shoulder, and quietly walked through the door, her cheerful goodbye filling him with a warmth strange to him for many years. He didn't look back at the shop as he left, he felt stupid for thinking that if he did, it might break the spell, and all the odd but nice feelings of nostalgia would be washed away with the disjointing noises of the city.

.

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_**A/N: You know that in Japan when you receive a gift it's custom to reciprocate and give a gift back. Tomoe didn't feel he deserved anything, took her thank-you-for-saving-me sweets as a gift, and felt morally compelled to give something back. Only that.  
**_

_**Coming up next: more backstory, confusion of names and sexy tattoos (because I can't write fanfictions without sexy men with sexy tattoos...)**_

_**Comments and reviews, very welcome and very encouraging! :)**_


	3. san

_A small, honest smile flickered over Tomoe's lips._

_'Thank you,' he said, genuinely, 'My associate might actually want to consider this offer. I'm off now, fare well.'_

.

.

A feeling of anticipation built up in her during the rest of the day, and, although she wasn't aware of it, she checked the time continually.

However, she only unwrapped Tomoe's little token of retribution at night, when everybody else had already gone to sleep. Her room was little and a bit like an attic, and it was right above the shop. Her cousin Yukiji and her younger cousins lived in the old house behind the shop, that was very beautiful with its wooden floors and quaint interior garden, but notoriously empty. Yukiji had more than once invited her to take a room, any room she chose, but Nanami was always slightly reluctant. She feared that if she went down to live with her cousin, she'd never become independent enough to leave once she could make a living for herself. And, none the less significant, Yukiji was an important woman with a very busy professional life, and a loving fiancée. Nanami preferred to give her space, and have space of her own in return.

Besides, she really liked the attic. It almost felt like home, perhaps because of the slanted windows and lingering scent of cinnamon. It was her private place where she could walk around in her underwear and read cheap romantic novels, where everything worked out fine in the end.

It was the place where she could open gifts of handsome random strangers (or, almost-strangers), and not give explanations to anyone.

With a little smile, she pulled the wrapping open and peered at the contents of the package, which consisted of a small rectangular box with a handwritten note that read 'Pear tart' on it. She was thrilled, because she'd never tried that before, because it was homemade –because it really meant a lot.

With a happy sigh, she brewed some green tea and cut a small piece of tart with a tiny fork.

.

.

Tomoe's next three weeks went by at vertiginous speeds. His associate, Mikage Kamino, had signed a contract with a famous chain of tea houses, known for their historical accuracy in their decorations and the clothing of their staff.

With such an opportunity, Tomoe had, at first, been thrilled, and for many reasons.

Although he'd majored in Traditional Arts, as soon as he'd started working he'd found that, in the modern life of a big city, there was little need for a graphic designer who cared about every precise minute of the tea ceremony, the proper length of an obi and the order of the steps of the kagura dance. The urban rhythm was voracious, and Tomoe had to adapt to survive. He learnt to draw inspiration from every crevice of the minimalistic present world. Eventually, he redeveloped himself, changing every history-inspired feature he kept for a renovated, contemporary version of itself. In that process of killing his old enthusiastic, traditional, student self (and dying a bit inside), he met Mikage.

And Mikage, an architect of some renown, and definitely a man of importance within the realm of design, found an use to all of him: the new Tomoe and the old as well, and plunged him into a whole new world –where his youth and innovation, together with Mikage's solid standing, knowledge and perspective, soon had their joint studio flourishing.

And however faintly he complained privately for having to open the studio so early on such a cold morning, he always found pleasure in finding his name written alongside Mikage's right over the studio's door, and he smiled affectionately as he opened it.

He pocketed his keys and turned some of the mellow lights on, to keep the mood smooth; then he went straight to get the coffee going.

While the coffee whistled as it passed through the machine, his gaze got lost outside the window; where there was little moving but the shifting shadows of late fall, lazily dancing with the streetlights.

Soon, it would dawn.

Some of the wet scent of fallen leaves had seeped in into the studio together with him, and now hung around like the lingering presence of an old friend; and Tomoe, despite himself, felt slightly lonesome. So, with a heavy heart due to some unknown early-morning melancholia, he got himself a cup of black coffee and busied himself with his share of work for the day.

Mikage only arrived hours later, past 10 am.

When he called Tomoe good morning, Tomoe felt tempted to let a sarcastic remark slip regarding his tardiness. But then he noticed that his associate looked like he'd gotten little sleep, yet he sported his usual smile and carried a handful of rolled planes and drawings under his arm. So he decided not to say anything but 'good morning' in return, not looking up from his own work on the computer.

Meanwhile, Mikage laid out some of his designs on his long working table and pinned their edges with colorful thumb tacks. When he was done, he called his associate over.

'Hey, take a look at this,' he said, gesturing towards the sketch of a series of rooms, 'Now that we're almost through with the floors, I think it's time we started thinking of what's next.'

'Well,' Tomoe said, failing to see the point, 'I thought you'd been through all the color schemes I sent you, Mikage…'

'I did, I did,' explained the older man, 'But it wouldn't be fair if it was me alone who chose one. It's better to do it together.'

Tomoe's scowl softened until it faded away. Mikage never failed to remind him why he'd decided it would be a good idea to have him as a partner.

'All right,' Tomoe said, 'Tell me what you've been thinking so far...'

.

.

Interior design was Tomoe's favorite application of the work he did; and, luckily, most of the times it mean restructuring boring, neutral spaces into neo-Japanese concepts. For a couple of years now, most of the workload that came to the studio was related to the unique way they had of intertwining the art that had endured centuries upon centuries with more modern forms and simplified spaces.

The owner of the chain of tea houses had contracted with them for a series of renovations they were planning to undertake on some of their most visited locations; and, after much planning and foundation-laying, it had finally come down to the 'fun part' for Mikage, and the 'tedious, odious part' for Tomoe; which was actually going to choose and buy supplies from different providers.

Tomoe wanted to be sure that it had been pure professionalism what had driven him to suggest Mikage to take a look at what the 'Sengoku Jidai' store had to offer. But he hadn't succeeded in entirely convincing himself.

Yet, as they browsed together the beautiful website and online store, Mikage was delighted. He congratulated his associate in all the ways his vocabulary allowed him to for his amazing discovery, which was guaranteed to make their work even more unique and sophisticated.

'Embroidered wall dressings,' Mikage had said, 'Now, how come we didn't come across this earlier? How did you find it, anyway?'

'It was only chance, Mikage.'

And Tomoe had shrugged and presented him with the discount coupon.

An hour and a half later, they had agreed upon a certain patterned cloth to hang directly from the ceiling all the way down to the floor, which they would alternate with veneered wood panels, to go for a sober and refined finish.

'Anyway,' said Mikage, after duly writing the details of the fabrics (names, prices, serial number, etc), 'since you discovered this place, and seeing they don't give any kind of online-purchasing facility, which is totally odd, mind you, I think you should get over there and make the order. What do you think?'

Well, what did he think? He thought that he wasn't sure that he wanted to go all the way back to the store and have a chat with the confusing girl of the pretty smile. He also thought of the nice memories that the place had brought him while he'd been there.

Neither thought was of relevance as to his associate's question.

So he answered 'Yeah, sure, tomorrow?'

Mikage smiled. 'Why not. Tomorrow would be perfect. And do ask if they work with any online banking system…'

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* * *

_**A/N: I thought it was a good moment to show a bit of Tomoe and Mikage's daily life + work. **_

_**Coming up next: more backstory, confusion of names and sexy tattoos (soon!)**_

_**Comments and reviews, very welcome and very encouraging! :)**_


	4. shi

_Well, what did he think? He thought that he wasn't sure that he wanted to go all the way back to the store and have a chat with the confusing girl of the pretty smile. He also thought of the nice memories that the place had brought him while he'd been there._

_Neither thought was of relevance as to his associate's question._

_So he answered 'Yeah, sure, tomorrow?'_

_Mikage smiled. 'Why not. Tomorrow would be perfect. And do ask if they work with any online banking system…'_

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.

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Much to Mikage's disappointment, the Sengoku Jidai store did not offer any kind of online banking facility to customers. They said it was to keep conducting business 'the customary way', thought Tomoe felt more inclined to believe it was just that they had never actually meant to take the trouble of opening a decently modern bank account.

Anyway. Tomoe had been to the store the following day. His stay there seemed to him much longer and tedious than the last time he had visited, but it was surely due to the fact that the shop assistant was another woman. The girl he had been hoping to see had a soothing aura around her, that made him feel like he was wanted around, even looked up to; whereas this woman was all business and practicality- delicately rimmed yet rectangular glasses sat on her nose, and made her look older than she probably was.

Very professionally, Tomoe introduced himself and succinctly explained to the woman the purpose that had brought him (and his associate, obviously) to consider that their products accurately suited their present needs.

Through their talk, Tomoe learned that he was speaking to the owner of the shop, Yukiji Suzuki, and that, as the shop's name suggested, her family had (impressively) been in the trade for many centuries. That lent some weight to her no-internet-selling policy, although, she conceded with a sigh, she foresaw that she would probably have to forego the old system in the not-so-distant future.

He liked Yukiji, in the most aseptic sense of the word 'like'. He liked that she was straightforward and appeared reliable, which was more than he expected from a provider.

What he didn't like was that, very much despite himself, his eyes insisted on straying from their conversation about measures and quantities and prices to the barely-visible back door at the end of the shop, the counter, or the places where he had seen the other girl linger when he had been there before.

He didn't like it at all that his mind insisted on trying to be nostalgic and dwell on the little villages embroidered on the tapestries that hung on display and that were precisely _not_ what he was there for.

He absolutely did not like his body and thoughts trying to betray him when he needed to be focused on not buying an extra 'three meters just in case' as Yukiji poker-facedly tried to convince him to. He had to stay on track. No, he said, his associate had been very precise in his calculations, they only needed what he had just detailed to her.

.

When the time to pay for everything came, Tomoe's hand reached for the discount coupon, but decided against using it in the last minute. His and Mikage's business had accounted for the cost of the materials, and was very well able to pay them, anyway. He willed himself not to have a conversation with himself about what the hell that gesture was supposed to mean, but instead he offered a sleek, practiced smile to Yukiji and took out his wallet.

'I don't remember when I saw this much cash together,' he commented, counting the notes over again despite having already counted them back in the office, just in case.

For a change, Yukiji chuckled slightly. 'You are not the first to say that, Mr. Ayakashi. Like I said, it will have to change soon.'

He gave her the money, and she put it away and bowed slightly in thanks. An employee began to carefully roll the fabrics, putting a large, yet surprisingly thin sheet of rice paper over the embroidering, to protect them.

While she oversaw the packaging process, Yukiji addressed Tomoe.

'See, I personally know the people who wove these fabrics. My family has worked with them for a long time now. There is one request I always make my customers,' she said, '… that they send me some pictures of the hanged tapestries, or the fabrics in context. Because, that way, when I go back to the artisans' village, I can take those photos with me and show them where their work goes. Their faces light up with happiness. Could you do that, plese, Mr. Ayakashi?'

Slightly surprised, Tomoe looked at her. He wouldn't have thought that the cold, serious woman had it in her to be so… what? Compassionate? Somewhat touched, he smiled a little.

'I will, you have my word' he promised, easily. And, knowing how the business worked, he added 'The tea house will hold an opening reception, probably in a month's time. You're welcome to take the pictures then yourself, if you wish.'

The woman smiled openly, for the first time.

'That is very kind of you. I would like that very much.'

'Very well,' he said, 'We'll be in touch.'

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That night, Tomoe came back to the apartment very late, with a splitting headache and dark rings around his eyes, and only sleep in his mind.

As he turned the key in the keyhole, a fleeting image of the night he'd brought in the girl from the street made him groan quietly in discomfort. It was about the fifth time her face had popped at random after he had left the shop, as if he'd somehow subconsciously been expecting her to be there, or something. It was highly unprofessional of him for his mind to stray so.

_It's because I'm so damn tired_, he thought, distractedly, as he made a point to ignore his loud roommate, who was not being loud now because he was too busy smooching with that curvy girlfriend of his who was decidedly too good for his snake-ish friend. As they were in the kitchen, and Tomoe preferred to stay clear from them and the small talk that may ensue, he went straight to his room. And, although he had plans to drink some sake and catch up on the novel he was reading, as soon as his back touched the mattress, he fell asleep.

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* * *

Hi dear readers!

I apologize for the short and delayed update. I was having a major writer's block, but I'm glad I'm through with this (kind of) filler chapter. But now you know a bit more about Tomoe's past, and Mizuki's girlfriend is (vaguely) introduced!

I'd like to hear your guesses!- Who is she?

(It mightn't be too hard, if you've read my other story... haha)

Anyway. I'll try to update again ASAP! Comments are greatly appreciated :)

See you!


	5. go

_I'd like to dedicate this chapter to **rekt**, because Mizuki x Unari is a very neglected, charming ship ;)_

_._

* * *

_It's because I'm so damn tired, he thought, distractedly, as he made a point to ignore his loud roommate, who was not being loud now because he was too busy smooching with that curvy girlfriend of his who was decidedly too good for his snake-ish friend. As they were in the kitchen, and Tomoe preferred to stay clear from them and the small talk that may ensue, he went straight to his room. And, although he had plans to drink some sake and catch up on the novel he was reading, as soon as his back touched the mattress, he fell asleep._

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.

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Unari, Mizuki's girlfriend, stayed the night, sometimes.

Tomoe liked her, many times a great deal better than he liked Mizuki. She was really attractive (though he'd never comment on that- he was too much of a gentleman), really polite, and one hell of a cook.

So it was her he found in the kitchen the following morning, hair tied into a messy bun and wearing one of Mizuki's shirts, busying over a frying pan that contained deliciously-smelling pancakes.

'Good morning!' she greeted with a pleasant smile, and handed him a cup from the counter.

He acknowledged her with a nod, and proceeded to pour himself some strong, dark coffee.

'I'm sorry if we bothered you last night,' she said. That was another thing about her that was good, although in this precise occasion, maybe not that good. She was really observant.

'Nevermind,' he said, his voice still husky from sleep, 'I passed out soon as I got home.'

'It shows,' she commented, and she always seemed to manage to sound agreeable, although she sounded pretty serious when she said: 'Tomoe… are you coming down with something?'

He looked at her with the most nonchalant look he could conjure that soon after waking up. 'Not that I'm aware of.'

'Ok,' she said, with a little shrug, appearing to pay more attention to the pancakes than to him, 'It's just that you look pale. Kind of sickly. Are you sleeping well?'

'Decently,' he said, noncommittally, unsure about his reasons for actually _answering_ her questions, 'I'll catch up after this job is done.'

'Make sure you do,' she recommended with a friendly wave of her spatula, 'Or else you're gonna be scaring around your customers, looking like death warmed over and all that.'

'That's Tomoe described in one fine idiom,' a sleepy voice said from behind them.

Mizuki lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching Tomoe sip his coffee with a pensive look on his face. He then took in the adorable sight of his girlfriend making breakfast in his clothes, and, ignoring his roommate's glare, he made his entrance to the narrow kitchen. Gracefully walking over to where his girlfriend was flipping the last pancake over, he slid his arms around her and pulled her towards his chest, almost causing the pancake to land on the ground. He kissed the top of her head, and absent-mindedly ignored her light blush in favor of watching her fumble with the kitchenware, which he made more difficult by keeping her pressed warmly against him.

Tomoe decided he'd had enough of it for the rest of the week, and went back to his room. His body was stiff from sleeping in the previous day's working clothes, and he figured a warm shower would do him good to ease away the lingering tension before going out to work.

It did little of the sort.

Standing under the pleasant stream of water, all that he wanted was that he could step out, make himself some tea, and then go back to sleep. But he knew that tea was out of the question, because the kitchen was No Man's Land, only that taken over. His only attempt at chasing away the Snakeboy-and-Snakegirl-cheesiness-in-the-kitchen involved (pathetically, if he may say so himself) Girl-with-cute-smile-whose-name-I-stupidly-neglected-to-ask, so, with a groan at his own enactment of how the mighty fall, he began to go through, mentally, of the work he had ahead of him for the day.

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* * *

_Hi! Short chapter! But I thought it deserved to be a chapter on its own. I think it's pretty sweet (for all but for Tomoe, obviously)._

_What do you think? What's gonna happen to our poor, confused main character? Will he ever see Nanami again?_

_...willl he ever actually know what her name is? Stay tuned!_

_And review, if you can. It's really motivating ;)_


	6. roku

_Standing under the pleasant stream of water, all that he wanted was that he could step out, make himself some tea, and then go back to sleep. But he knew that tea was out of the question, because the kitchen was No Man's Land, only that taken over. His only attempt at chasing away the Snakeboy-and-Snakegirl-cheesiness-in-the-kitchen involved (pathetically, if he may say so himself) Girl-with-cute-smile-whose-name-I-stupidly-neglected-to-ask, so, with a groan at his own enactment of how the mighty fall, he began to go through, mentally, of the work he had ahead of him for the day._

_._

_._

Tomoe was used to strange sights greeting him sometimes upon coming back home, yet, somehow he managed to often become surprised anyway. He found his roommate kneeling before the transparent acrylic bathtub, shirtless, with his pet white snake hanging comfortably around his shoulders like some sort of feather boa. He was arranging some new water plants in the bathtub, and scratching the catfish that lived there behind its hypothetical ears as if it was an actual cat.

Mizuki was an odd fellow with a strange fondness for things that were damp, slippery and slimy. The tattoo of a snake that curled around his right arm undulated softly when he moved his fingers to caress the catfish's scales.

Lost in the remembrance of their school days together, Tomoe lingered in the doorsill and looked at Mizuki's peaceful face as he went about the business of making his pet more comfortable.

'Do you want a moment with Mr. Waterdance, too?' his roommate asked, finally.

'No, I don't want a 'moment' with Mr. Waterdance,' Tomoe said, under his breath, eyeing the splattering fish in the tub with a slight note of wariness. Sometimes, he wondered how he could get on so well with someone who could annoy him so much, so easily. He shrugged. 'Is Unari gone, already?'

Mizuki stood up, wiping his wet hand on a nearby towel, 'Yes,' he said with a semblance of a pout, 'And I'm already missing her. I asked her if she wanted to take Snakey with her to work today, to remember me- but then again, she's doing some research on little local fish, and she feared it might eat her test subjects.'

_Unari is a marine biologist_, Tomoe's memory curtly reminded him.

'A legit reason for dumping you,' Tomoe said, smirking.

'Don't ever mention it,' Mizuki said, absentmindedly stroking Snakey's head, 'My life would suck without her. By the way, she left us dinner. Come, let's go heat it, I lost track of time with Mr. Waterdance and I'm starving.'

Tomoe followed him quietly, wondering, in a scale from 1 to 10, just how normal he'd say his life was. Maybe a 5. Or a 4. The weirdness around him made up for whatever semblance of normalcy his working life could have.

'It's really good,' Tomoe commented after taking the first bite of Unari's vegetable pie.

'You kidding?' Mizuki said, chasing his own bite of pie with a sip of sake (his tolerance was both commendable and scary), 'She's a kitchen goddess. An angel. How indebted I am to Shinjirou for leading me to her, he must never know- Tomoe, swear that you won't ever tell him.'

Tomoe smirked, but said nothing. Still, Mizuki knew that he tacitly had his friend's word. They might bicker from time to time, and betray each other when it came to groceries, but they knew they could count on the other's priorities being otherwise straight.

'He ditched us, anyway,' Mizuki said bitterly, stabbing a piece of pie before chomping on it, 'Not a call, a like on facebook, nada. He went full ghost on us.'

'We've got nothing on the groupies,' Tomoe muttered.

Mizuki nodded, agreeing with his wisdom. 'He'll get it when he comes back,' he said, sneakily- 'Where was he, again?'

Tomoe shrugged. 'In Indonesia I think,' he looked out of the window- 'we'll be seeing pictures of beaches and hangovers forever when he gets back.'

'Would that he took us on his tours,' Mizuki said, sourly.

Tomoe quirked an eyebrow- 'And stand him in bitchy idol mode 24/7?'

His roommate blinked, innocently: 'Do you think he'd be able to keep it up that long?'

'I wouldn't underestimate him,' Tomoe answered.

'Nah, you're right,' Mizuki said, and poured his friend a sip of vodka. Tomoe eyed it with distrust.

'Are you trying to get something out of me?' he inquired, his suspicion slightly piqued.

'Psh, you have the oddest ideas,' Mizuki said, dismissingly, pouring himself a sip as well. 'It's for a toast. Now, rise it.'

Still not convinced, Tomoe asked him what they were toasting to.

'Why, to the lovely vacations that could result from us getting invited to touring along with "Kurama", and ditching him last minute in the airport for being a smartass.'

Tomoe smirked. 'I can toast to that,' he said.

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It was the following morning, and, before stepping into the studio, Tomoe routinely eyed the sign that hung over the door fondly: MIKAGE &amp; AYAKASHI. It looked and sounded awesome, as if they were some kind of inner-design Bang &amp; Olufsen.

With but a few days left to the opening reception of their exclusive client- which, now that their work was through, they could safely disclose was no other than the renowned Harusame chain- there were some formalities to take care of, some in-site supervision that Mikage and Tomoe did together, and some paperwork that fell within Tomoe's jurisdiction. Mikage, in charge of their public relations, had been busy making various phone calls throughout the morning, and, among them, had given a call to the owner of the Sengoku Jiidai store, to extend to her an invitation as a guest of their studio.

Well past midday, when he was finished, Mikage strolled into Tomoe's office: 'I rang Yukiji Suzuki, from the Sengoku Jiidai shop,' he informed his associate.

Tomoe barely looked up from the budget-checkups he was running, and nodded.

'She sounded genuinely glad that we called,' Mikage commented, 'though her voice was rather raspy. She suspected she was coming down with something. Of course I told her that she could send someone in her stead, if she preferred, or, if she didn't, I instructed her to write us an email and we'll take care of the pictures he wanted.'

'Alright,' Tomoe said, slightly distracted, 'I'll keep an eye out in case she writes to us. Anything else?'

'Oh, no, everything's like it should be,' Mikage said, with a contented sigh, 'I wish it were always this easy. So, Tomoe, if you please, print out the invite and mail it to her private address- not the store, let's be smooth.'

'Alright,' Tomoe said once more, mechanically, and continued typing, not sparing more than a glance at the file with the invitation he sent to the printer.

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* * *

**Author's Note:**

If you're wondering about how Mizuki and Unari came to be together, I invite you to read my other story, called '**_Kindred Spirits'_**. It's pretty much explained there :)

.

'_Harusame'_\- I didn't want to think so I borrowed this from Shaman King, it was the sword of one of the main characters. I vaguely recall it means something like 'spring rain' or so, very poetic.

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I wanted to thank **Ai Star, Foxes-Rock, Hana-Liatris, tsuki-suna **and **HarmonySteel **for their support!

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Sometimes I think that this story is too adult for this fandom, hahaha, what with budget reviews, online banking facilities, and adult responsibilities. Hahaha sometimes I feel guilty that I'm taking the magic out of it, in a way. I hope you don't see it that way too :P


	7. shichi

_'Oh, no, everything's like it should be,' Mikage said, with a contented sigh, 'I wish it were always this easy. So, Tomoe, if you please, print out the invite and mail it to her private address- not the store, let's be smooth.'_

_'Alright,' Tomoe said once more, mechanically, and continued typing, not sparing more than a glance at the file with the invitation he sent to the printer._

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Cousin Yukiji's black cocktail dress looked slightly wrong on her- it was not a revealing kind of dress; just a sleeveless turtleneck that graciously draped to the floor- but it made Nanami look at least five years older than she actually was, and filled her with the fear that someone might mistake her for Yukiji and start talking shop with her. What was she supposed to do, then? Of course, what cousin Yukiji had instructed her to: tell the person in question that she was not actually her cousin, and hand them out Yukiji's business card. It would be fine- then why was she so nervous?

Countless questions that betrayed the root of Nanami's concern flashed through her mind while she inspected herself in the mirror: she'd never been to a gala like this, and she was terrified she'd end up screwing up. She was embarrassed by the thought alone of eating the wrong way, drinking maybe a bit too much (although she thought she'd learnt her lesson about overdrinking… and drinking in general…), snorting like a pig if she laughed, and other silly teenage worries.

That night, everything she did seemed to become a moral dilemma, too. Would she wear flats or high heels? Well, high heels, obviously, right? Well, then, which? What color? She owned a pair of camel-colored ones, but maybe it would be advisable to borrow the shiny black stilettos from Yukiji. Yeah, probably. Well, then, what about her hair? Such a dress _needed_ her to put her hair up in some kind of fancy bun. But, trying it, the mirror gave her back the image of a pretty young woman five years older than the five years that the dress already added to her. It made her look like 30 and single, Sex-and-the-City material. No, it couldn't be. She'd have to let her hair down and risk stepping down a couple of steps in the stairway to glamour.

In the end, she did borrow Yukiji's heels, and parted her hair tastefully with a cute, colorful flower pin that had belonged to her mother, and made her look a bit more her age.

Before leaving she checked her purse, making sure that all that had to be there, was there: ID, invitation, the badge that indicated she was Sengoku Jiidai staff (she'd pin it on later), a good camera (very important!) and, of course, lip gloss, cotton pads in case she needed to touch up her make-up, a tiny can of pepper spray, and some mint chewing gum.

While she waited for the cab in the foyer of Yukiji's silent house, she found herself torn between the excitement that came with having to attend such a fancy reception, and the dread she felt at the prospect of ruining the store's image.

She found herself wishing that her cousin had not gotten sick at all- when the invitation had arrived, Yukiji had almost been sure that she'd get well enough to be able to make it to the event. But then she'd felt well enough that she'd spent a whole afternoon in the freezing warehouse where they stored their merchandise, selecting and hauling huge rolls of fabric onto the truck that would take them to the store. And the following day she'd suffered a pretty strong relapse that had kept her bed-ridden for the last day and a half.

And although she was better, she was in no way fit enough to be ambling around in party gear just yet.

Nanami fiddled nervously with the string of her purse. She wished her cousin had told her a bit more about the reception than "the customer invited us to take the pictures for ourselves. I trust your taste, Nanami, and remember- it's better to have too many pictures than too little. And enjoy the fancy, free smoothies for me!".

She distracted herself with the thought of watermelon smoothies- would they serve those? Or, even better… what if they had designer-ice-cream?

When the cab arrived, Nanami's thoughts had been pleasantly filled with the promise of sweets and milkshakes, and her worries had been confined to a dark corner of her mind, where she didn't pay them any attention any more.

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Mikage and Tomoe made for an eye-catching duo. They made a point never to attend formal galas in a suit, because it made them look too stuck-up to be graphic designers (and maybe even mistaken for yakuza, God forbid it), and they liked the studio to be associated with unstructured professionalism. Both of them were very attentive towards details- as Mikage always liked to say, 'what you show is what people see'.

Mikage was wearing an impeccable, gray Armani suit-jacket, with an old-pink rose elegantly tucked into his breast pocket, cushioned by a cream-colored handkerchief; and elegant, black dress slacks. Tomoe, who was very fond of traditional clothing, and whose youth and general good looks allowed to get away with wearing almost anything, had opted for grey dress slacks, a faded-blue kimono, a stylish, deep-blue haori jacket with an embroidered pattern of leaves and branches, and black scarf loosely wrapped around his (ghostly pale) neck.

They companionably made their way across the room, greeting the key organizers from the Harusame firm, and other significant people of their acquaintance.

More than once, Mikage had to tactfully rescue Tomoe from overenthusiastic women who were awestruck by his associate's impeccable taste in traditional clothing. But such things often happened to them, and made Tomoe like Mikage all the better.

They'd been discussing for a while the importance of actual raw shrimps in certain martini-like cocktails with the head-chef, who had snuck out of the kitchen to greet some guests and get a couple of breaths of fresh air (and a tall glass of champagne), when Tomoe spotted the beautiful journalist Lydia Narukami over by the bar.

He frowned, and figured that in less than half an hour he'd be losing his business associate to the wiles of the woman "he'd sworn he'd make his wife, some day..." (probably the day when she stopped scorching him with thunderous death-glares- Mikage was an awful flirt and his pick-up lines were disastrous. But, Tomoe had faith in him. If anything, the man was persistent… and way too humble.)

They were rewarded by the head chef for their interesting suggestions; and, true to his prediction, half an hour later Tomoe found himself with a sophisticated martini glass with a cocktail with a bright, cherry shrimp floating in it in his hand, and his associate lost to the enchantment of the 'Lady Thunder', as Narukami's coworkers in her magazine had dubbed her.

He sipped his beverage, trying to ascertain whether he liked it or not (so far, in his opinion, the best that one could do with a shrimp was soup….), idly gazing around the tea house.

They'd done a damn fine job, if he could say so. The guys in charge of the lighting had not been bad, either.

The atmosphere was urbane and refined, and the low amber lights gave it a touch of suave mystery that he thought was a great addition to the ambient.

He was pretty proud of the outcome as a whole. And the cuisine was also impeccable.

All in all, Tomoe was in a pretty pleased mood; and, deciding to ditch that strange drink in favor of a clear glass of reliable, scented sake, he leisurely strolled around the place, looking for a good spot to sit down and enjoy himself quietly.

He stayed there for a while, accepting every refill that the beautiful waitresses offered him (and they seemed to flutter around him quite a lot, so he got plenty refills), and watched the people come and go and mingle. He didn't think about the owner of the Sengoku Jiidai store, who had been most definitely invited, and he had yet to see in the reception, until his eyes spotted a petite girl taking pictures of the embroidered fabrics that superbly adorned the walls.

She wasn't facing him, so all that he could see of her was that she was wearing really high heels, and still looked rather short. Shrugging, he turned his attention elsewhere, until a voice, which seemed to be slightly raised with annoyance, and sounded suspiciously familiar (he could not, however, recognize where he'd heard it before) rang near enough that he could follow the conversation, and, when he'd heard enough, he was quick to find the source of the voices and make sense of the scene unfolding.

'Sir, I must insist that you let go of me. I'm underage, anyway, so I couldn't take you up on that offer.'

'But, pretty lady, one drink would do you no harm, would it?'

'I might have reconsidered if you were not holding my wrist like that,' she said, curtly, 'Kindly let me go, please.'

Tomoe was never the knight-in-shining armor type of guy. He was the let-the-woman-sort-it-out-herself type of guy. Or so he'd believed right until he found himself standing up and striding over to where the middle-aged, more-than-tipsy businessman was holding a slim girl's wrist a bit too snugly. He didn't even allow himself time to be surprised at his own actions:

'Hey, woman,' he cut in, smoothly, 'where _were_ you?'

'Oh? I? Me?' she said, confused.

Not giving her time, or himself for that matter, to think it through too much, he eased the man's grip off her, and, with his hand in the small of her back, he guided her away from the rather dumbfounded man, only offering him an insincere 'Thanks for your help,' over his shoulder.

.

'It was a lousy excuse, that one,' Tomoe commented off-handedly, as he discreetly eyed the girl that now sat across him, in a quiet set of divans in a corner.

'Maybe,' she said, cheekily, 'But it _was_ true. I'm underage.'

'You didn't seem to think so when I first met you,' Tomoe said, smirking tersely.

'I know,' she said, with a sigh, 'But I learned my lesson that night. I've not drunk a drop of alcohol ever since.'

'Skirting around the problem won't make the problem go away,' he remarked.

She huffed. 'What problem would that be?'

'That you can't hold your liquor,' he replied, smoothly.

'Gosh, I remembered you _way_ less annoying,' she muttered, 'Why are we having this conversation, anyway?'

Tomoe was about to give her a silver-tongued answer, but a waitress cut in by asking if he'd maybe like more sake. He accepted with the ghost of a scowl, and was about to order another glass of sake for his lady friend, but decided against it. 'What will you have?' he asked her, instead.

'Oh, I…' her previous defiance seemed to deflate, and Tomoe saw her fluster mildly and ask the waitress if, maybe, they had watermelon smoothies. The waitress said they did, most certainly, and, flashing Tomoe a condescending smile that didn't sit too well with him, left to get the girl her drink.

'I think we started on the wrong foot, tonight', she said, meekly. 'I'm sorry about being a bit snappy, but that guy out there, he freaked me out. Thanks for stepping in.'

'No problem,' he said, nonchalantly, trying not to dwell on how endearing he suddenly found her, 'I'm surprised to see you here'.

'Well, yes, cousin Yukiji was supposed to attend, but she was feeling really awful and she couldn't make it, so I came in her place…'

Tomoe stared pensively at her, not really paying much attention to what she was saying.

'What's your name?' he cut in.

'Eh… I'm sorry…?'

'Your name,' he said again. Gosh, she blushed too much.

'Nanami. I'm Nanami…' she suddenly felt like she wanted the floor to swallow her up. She was such a dense person! She'd not even introduced herself properly, and this guy had saved her two times already…!

'It's pretty,' he said, simply, 'I'm Tomoe'.

She smiled- it was as nice as he remembered it. He realized he was beginning to smile when the waitress brought Nanami her drink, and straightened his face before he could make a fool out of himself. What was he thinking? He actually seemed not to be thinking at all, damn it.

'I'm a bit disappointed that they don't serve ice-cream here. What kind of a tea house is it?'

'A _tea_ house,' Tomoe answered, blankly.

Nanami blinked, slowly, and then, slowly, she began to chuckle, and laugh, eventually.

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* * *

**Author's Notes:**

I wanted to thank you all for your amazing support. This fandom is made up of really cool people! :D I'm also glad that you don't feel that this story is too non-magical! Your comments really motivated me to update fast :D

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As you can tell, I had fun with their clothes. What Tomoe is wearing is basically his blue haori/ black scarf clothes, but with slacks and a real-world feel. It's okay, I also laughed at the mental image of Mikage in an Armani jacket.

If you're wondering who Lydia Narukami is, she'd be the Thunder Goddess that turned Tomoe into a whelp of a kid and caused Nanami and folks a lot of trouble with Ookuni-nushi's stolen mallet xD I just needed a romantic interest for Mikage, obviously Otohiko was most definitely out of the question, hahaha xD (he's like a family friend). I gave her the name 'Lydia' because that's the name of her voice actress in English. She's such a dramatic woman that I totally picture her changing her Japanese name for a "flashy" one like 'Lydia' :F

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Special thanks to **Ai Star, Foxes-Rock, tsuki-suna, HarmonySteel, Hana-Liatris **and **Myahle** for their lovely reviews :)


	8. hachi

_Slowly, she began to chuckle –and laugh, eventually._

.

.

.

Tomoe found himself smiling, an uncharacteristically wide smile.

For a moment, nothing occupied his mind other than the pleasant feeling of her happiness, and he found himself wishing that this warmth would stay with him forever.

But the moment passed, and she started sipping her deep-pink smoothie through the straw with unbounded delight.

Tomoe just watched her. He studied her –he tried to figure her out, and himself, in the process; and she didn't seem to mind. When she noticed him staring, she just smiled back at him.

_If I saw anyone else behaving like this, I'd consider it creepy_, he tried to reason with himself, _then what the hell am I doing?_

He couldn't answer his question, and his blank stare began to crease into a slight frown.

Nanami noticed. 'What are you thinking?' she asked, kindly.

He was at a loss for an answer.

'Your age,' he replied, lamely, and regretted it immediately. A subtle blush crept to his otherwise very pale cheeks.

She blinked, but, to his surprise, didn't seem to be offended.

'I look pretty grown-up in this dress, don't I?' she commented lightly, 'I'm 17. And I feel pretty out of place here, too –is that what you were thinking?'

'No,' answered Tomoe, 'I wasn't thinking about it.' And, as an afterthought, added, 'You _do_ look 17, though.'

Nanami laughed. 'I'm glad!' she said, 'I was really scared that people would start to talk about complicated business stuff, and I'd somehow end up ruining cousin Yukiji just because they thought I was her…'

_Only if you didn't look so adorable_, Tomoe's mind commented, but he was sound enough not to voice it.

'No one that could mistake you two should be given the authority to ruin someone else's business,' he said, instead.

Nanami didn't know how to interpret that comment, but found his tone funny enough to end up laughing; and he allowed himself a small smile, as well.

.

.

It was a Thursday, and however much Tomoe would have loved to stay later (Mikage and he'd agreed on taking Friday off, as a reward for a job well done… an to catch up on sleep…), he assumed that Nanami would have school the following day. And, upon asking, he'd confirmed it. So he decided to listen to his deeply-engrained code of behavior, which was rather comprehensive when it came to honor, duty, and moral obligations, and call it a night.

Nanami protested, but, once she realized that her companion-for-the-evening was quite serious about it, she acknowledged he was probably right.

That, and she found his concern for her very endearing.

'Hey, you don't need to take me home,' she said, fidgeting, while he regally hailed a taxi, 'I can take care of myself pretty well, I'll have you know…'

He offered her a lopsided smirk.

'I don't doubt it,' answered Tomoe, right when a taxi pulled over to let them in, 'But I'd be a horrible man if I let you go home all by yourself.'

Nanami wanted to protest, but her protesting was postponed by Tomoe's polite holding the door open for her, and his swiftly coming inside some respectful seconds after her.

He let her tell the driver her address, after a moment of tense consideration.

'Don't worry,' Tomoe reassured her, nonchalantly, 'I'm not going to follow you into your house, nor do any of the possibly ridiculous things you're considering.'

With a nervous little laugh, Nanami dismissed his words as nonsense.

But he'd evidently been right about her thoughts, and that had her eyeing him out of the corner of her eye the whole ride (which was not long, thankfully), and making her question where the hell all this was going.

He didn't care to start a conversation. Unbeknownst to him, his thoughts were heading in the same general direction as hers.

.

While Nanami got off, Tomoe paid the driver, who winked at him through the rear-view mirror. In another circumstance, Tomoe would have rolled his eyes at the gesture –but he found himself torn between being startled and flustered.

He was quick to get off as well.

For the small purse that she was carrying, Nanami was having considerable trouble finding her keys.

'You wouldn't believe how easily things get lost in these stupid purses,' she complained, 'That's why I usually just carry my stuff in my pockets…'

He just observed her, serenely.

'Ah! There!' she exclaimed, fishing a set of keys with a very girly charm dangling from them, 'Victory!'

Tomoe snickered under his breath, and nodded.

'Hey,' she said, addressing him with an honest look in her eyes, 'Thanks so much for tonight, Tomoe. It was really fun. And thanks for taking the trouble to bring me home, though you really needn't…'

He shrugged.

'It was no trouble at all.'

For fleeting seconds, they stood there, in the chilly night, avoiding each other's eyes and thinking of an elegant way to say goodnight. Tomoe, at least.

He didn't find an elegant one, but a straightforward one, and that was chosen by something strange that took over him, apparently, because he could have never done such a thing as ask-

'Nanami, what do you think about destiny?'

She blinked up at him, her pretty, bright eyes blinking with curiosity.

'Destiny? She repeated, 'Well, it's not too practical to think about it, but I think I kind of believe in it.'

He smiled, thinly, rather strained.

'Me too.'

Curiosity got the best of her: 'Why do you ask?'

'Nothing…' he trailed off.

'There should be nothing odd about you being at Harusame's tonight. I'm overthinking.'

She chuckled.

'That's silly'

'Silly?' he said, mildly taken aback.

'Very silly. It's not destiny or anything. It was just nice. Talking to you and having that smoothie, it was just nice, very nice.'

Her simple answer charmed him, and he smiled at her, slowly. He was, definitely, overthinking.

'Yeah, I guess it was.'

She beamed.

'Could I have your phone number, Nanami?' he asked, before he could help it. He averted his eyes, thinking that, luckily for him, in the remote event of him being blushing, it'd go unseen in the dim glow of the street-lights.

Shyness was not something he thought he'd see when he eventually looked down, at her, but there it was, plainly, on her face.

'Sure… give me your phone, I'll write it for you.'

When she was finished, and handed him his phone back, he leant down smoothly, and gently pecked her cheek.

'I'll call you,' said Tomoe, with a thin smirk, and ever old-fashioned.

Nanami nodded, dumbly, almost as if she'd not been expecting that.

Well, she probably hadn't, Tomoe, thought –_he'd_ not been expecting that.

But, whatever.

With a small wave, he saw her flash a last smile at him and then open the door to the large, traditional house she lived in. He stayed there, as if rooted, until he saw a small light flicker on in what looked like the top floor, or maybe the attic.

A little, kind smile found its way onto his lips, and, shaking his head at himself, he decided to walk back to his apartment. It was far, yes.

But he had a lot to think about, and tomorrow's day off.

And so, he went home with his heart feeling strangely light, and, maybe, wishing that he could have stayed there a bit longer –if only, a little bit longer.

.

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* * *

**Author's Note:**

Finally! Tomoe makes * kind of* a move!

I'm taking this fic like a character study and a challenge to myself to see how in-character I can get these guys. It's a lot of fun. That's why I stretched the scene and the dialogues so far...

You know, most of my inspiration for this fic comes from the song _**"Ototoi oide"**_It's a lovely, warm song. I love it. Everyone should listen to it at least twice a day :)

.

BTW, I'm missing Mizuki already. Him and his humor and witty remarks will be coming back soon!

.

Also, I'm thinking that this fic will have 10 chapters. Though I'm not sure yet, I'll see if I can manage to wrap up the lose ends and side-stories in only 2 more chapters! (uh, now that I say it like this, it sounds kind of impossible... hahaha, we'll see!)

.

I want to kindly thank** Hana-Liatris, Myahle, Foxes-Rock, Tei-Tsuki, zillacan and Guest** for their support and encouragement. I've got to say this fandom is very kind, and you people and your reviews always encourage me to keep on writing :)


	9. kyu

_With a small wave, he saw her flash a last smile at him and then open the door to the large, traditional house she lived in. He stayed there, as if rooted, until he saw a small light flicker on in what looked like the top floor, or maybe the attic._

_A little, kind smile found its way onto his lips, and, shaking his head at himself, he decided to walk back to his apartment. It was far, yes._

_But he had a lot to think about, and tomorrow's day off._

_And so, he went home with his heart feeling strangely light, and, maybe, wishing that he could have stayed there a bit longer –if only, a little bit longer._

.

.

.

Tomoe recognized his defeat that very night.

He didn't need to know about her more than her magnetic smile, feel more than the mysterious pang of nostalgia or scoff at more than her particularly silly way to see the world to know that she represented right about everything missing from his life.

But he also knew that if he decided to risk it, it wouldn't be easy.

When, a couple of days later, and after a lot of coffee and a lot of working late he decided to tell Mizuki about his predicament (seeing how he was his closest friend in a steady, stable sentimental relationship that had begun in a weird way and turned out for the better…), Mizuki wrapped up Tomoe's main concern in a single, sarcastic comment:

'Such an older guy dating a highschool girl… that's a _special_ kind of creepy,' Mizuki said, with a venomous little smirk dancing on his lips.

Tomoe winced, especially at the way in which Mizuki was smirking serenely at him, as if he somehow had become his prey. They were sitting in their living room, Tomoe in one of the individual sofas, and Mizuki taking up the couch, Snakey curled around him (in what anyone else would have considered an uncomfortable manner), its big, fat head resting on top of its owner's own head. Both shared a look, and Tomoe fleetingly thought they looked like they were merged, Mizuki and that snake.

He sighed.

'Let me put it this way,' he said, at length, 'Remember the mushroom episode?'

Mizuki was the one who winced this time. 'I try to forget it every day…'

'Well, if we were actual divine animal spirits, like you and Shinjirou so _ardently_ tried to convince me of (Tomoe enjoyed Mizuki's regretful cringe), then I'd gladly forsake my godliness to be with her, underage mortal though she might be.'

By then, Mizuki's subtle wince at the unflattering memory had been replaced by an almost-cute expression of genuine curiosity.

'…really?'

'No regrets.'

Tomoe's roommate blinked once, twice.

'She must have hexed you, dude,' he said, at length, 'Look, Unari's got a friend who's a purported witch, go check her out, just in case.'

Evidently, Tomoe did not take those words seriously, at all.

'If you're thinking Isahime, let me remind you of what she did to poor, unsuspecting Ryuo when you told _him_ that very same thing…'

Mizuki sighed, shaking his head.

'Look, dude. Just because you're going through some inner turmoil thing doesn't give you the right to be mean and guilt-trip me over and over. I'm just trying to give you a hand, ok?'

Tomoe shrugged, and averted his eyes, successfully chastised. Maybe Mizuki _was_ right, he was being a bit evil, bringing up all those awful past experiences with so little respite between them.

'Listen,' said Mizuki, 'Can you hear anything? Splashing, maybe?'

Tomoe tried to listen, but, in all honesty, all he heard was a breeze picking up outside. It was almost winter. He shook his head.

'Not a thing.'

Mizuki dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and stood up.

'Well, that just shows you've got an animal empathy level rock. That's Mr. Waterdance sploshing around, probably hungry. This is what we're gonna do. I'm gonna go and take care of my gorgeous little water monster, and _you_ are going to make tea and cook something tasty. Think stuff through, while you're at it. And then we can talk some more.'

Privately dumbstruck by Mizuki's sudden display of both eloquence and compassion, Tomoe nodded in silence.

Quietly, he went to the kitchen. He turned on the lights, and fastened his favorite apron around his slim frame. With a sigh, he furtively checked that he was alone, and flicked his thumb over the screen of his phone until Nanami's contact info was on display. He allowed himself some seconds to look at her smiling picture, with an expressionless face that turned into a frown when he realized what he was doing, and he put the phone away again.

He fetched the first cookbook that was within reach and distractedly browsed through it, and through the window he looked at the darkening sky and, tucking away a stray memory of his childhood in the mountains, he thought how he still had a long, long way to go.

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* * *

**Author's Note:**

Hi! I wasn't planning to update, I don't know what happened.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed Mizuki! I sure did :D

I want to send a super tight hug to the awesome people who always review! Thank you so much guys! You're all very special :)

Also, I'm sure I'm not gonna finish this story in one more chapter, so nevermind what I said about 10 chapters ^^.

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**Contest! (kind of!)**

**The most original story behind "the mushroom incident" or "what Isahime did to poor Ryuo" **[who, btw, is the Dragon King]**, will be nicely featured in the coming chapters!  
**


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